More Than Lies (More Than #1)(45)

It happened. There is no way I’ll ever forget a moment of his lips on mine or his hands on my skin and I don’t want to either.

“Do you want to forget it happened?” I ask, meekly.

“I asked you that question.”

“And I countered.”

“Tara,” he warns. Shawn’s eyes close as his forehead falls forward, down toward the damp skin between my neck and shoulder. He pulls in air as if pulling my scent into his nose. The heat from his exhale causes my body to shiver as goose bumps break out across my skin. “You can’t handle me. I don’t know if there is a woman that exists that can.”

“And you’ll never know because you won’t take the chance to find out.” He looks back at me, staring into the eyes of my reflection. I do the same to him.

“You’re probably right.” Shawn pushes off the dresser, turns, and walks out of my bedroom.

I don’t understand him. He has the perfect parents and a great childhood. Why is he so against relationships? It’s something I shouldn’t concern myself with. Even if Shawn was interested in a woman more than once, it wouldn’t be me.

He’s wrong, though. I could handle him if given a shot.

I huff out a breath of air and finish grabbing my necessities to put on clean clothes so I can go see Pam.





CHAPTER TWELVE





SHAWN





I’ve been riding four-wheelers since I was a small kid. I love it. Having a machine between my thighs and riding until my thumb is numb is my idea of relaxation. I don’t need a beach. I need dirt and a Yamaha.

My parents discovered an ATV park in a tiny Georgia town when I was in junior high. We were traveling there so often that my parents bought a smaller, second home near where the park is located. Since then it’s had a few upgrades. The kitchen was redesigned the way my mother wanted, and an in-ground pool was installed five years ago. So, for the past ten years, Thanksgiving in Georgia riding four-wheelers, eating good food, and enjoying our family time together has become a family tradition.

You only live once, might as well enjoy it to the fullest, and do the things you love. That’s my parents’ motto, and I sorta like it and try to follow suit.

Tara and I arrived at the Georgia house this morning. My parents came yesterday so Mom could prepare everything for the meal we enjoyed earlier tonight. Shane arrived a few hours ago. Everyone else—my other roommates, Tara’s brother Trent, Kylie, and Mason’s other sister Layla—should arrive within the hour. Tomorrow we all plan to spend the whole day riding.

It’s been nearly two weeks since the drugging incident, but it’s never far from my mind. I want to beat the shit out of the guy that tried to rape Tara, and if I ever see him again, it’ll happen. I’m certain of that. The son of a bitch should be in a cell right now. No, that would be too kind. He deserves far worse.

Mom and Dad tried to talk her into going to the cops about the incident, but Tara refused. It pisses me off that a grown ass woman—a fucking adult—still gives a damn that her shitty ass parents would blame her for what happened. Oh, I’m certain her bitch ass mother would lay blame on innocent Tara, but she shouldn’t care what her mother—or anyone else—thinks.

The parties at my house have mellowed since then. We’ve all been hanging out at Mac’s more and more which suits me just fine. When Tara works, I get impeccable service. But I’m hoping to get her to quit working at the bar once I get everything squared away with the studio. She still has another full semester of school when this year ends, plus her writing, and the two jobs. I don’t see how she manages everything. Something will have to give. Now that she is getting paid for working at the studio, I think it’ll be a no-brainer.

“Here, son.” I glance up to see my dad holding a bottle of Corona out, offering it to me. I gladly take it.

“Thanks, old man.” The cap is already removed so I bring the cold glass bottle up to my lips and take a sip of beer. We finished eating half an hour ago. I’m stuffed, and I’m sure my dad and brother are too. Shane headed off to bed a few minutes ago. Mom’s cleaning up the mess we all made and Tara is seated down from me at the other end of the couch with her nose buried into her e-reader.

“So what’s this I hear about you buying the studio from your boss?” I roll my head in his direction to my right, laying a thick glare toward Tara’s head. She isn’t paying me a lick of attention, but I’ll have a word with her later. It’s not that I’m keeping secrets from my parents. I don’t need to hide this from them, but the fewer people that know my plans means there is smaller chance on it becoming public knowledge before I’m ready. Meaning, before I find out who’s stealing money from the shop.

I feel my lower leg being nudged so I turn my attention back to my dad. He’s shaking his head.

“Your grandmother,” he says as if clarifying that it wasn’t Tara that spilled the beans. “You’re lucky she’s in Florida and doesn’t live back home any longer. That old lady can’t keep anything to herself. The whole congregation of her church probably knows, too. You know how she brags.” He shakes his head while laughing about his mother-in-law.

That I do. Old people are something else. If all old men do is sit around with their buddies drinking coffee and talking about the weather while old ladies talk about everyone and their mother, then please kill me before I get old. There’s got to be more in life than sitting around, waiting to die.